


she the five thousand and you the five loaves of bread and fish

by Madame



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Genre: F/F, POV Second Person, Season/Series 01 Spoilers, Smut, brief mentions of canon rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 11:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14715338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame/pseuds/Madame
Summary: Her touches always felt light and careful, as if you could turn your head and stop her caress but they were a steel trap, only instead of snapping closed they distracted you long enough for the spiked jaws to slowly wind close around your foot that was stood between them.





	she the five thousand and you the five loaves of bread and fish

There was a gentle persistence with Serena, every encounter would start off slowly, fingers against your jaw, tilting your head up as her lips made their way up your neck. Her touches would feel feather soft, they’d creep around your head, cupping it as she pressed her always soft lips to your cracked ones. Her touches always felt light and careful, as if you could turn your head and stop her caress but they were a steel trap, only instead of snapping closed they distracted you long enough for the spiked jaws to slowly wind close around your foot that was stood between them.

Maybe a steel trap was the wrong comparison, she was more like quicksand. Your every move was followed by a trail of touches. You step back, she steps forward; you move a hand to her shoulder; she follows with a hand at your wrist, pushing you gently against the wall. Every move was about ensuring you sunk closer to her. She didn't like to be touched at the beginning of these encounters, you could later on, when she was more pliable, when she’d eaten her fill, when her movements were slower and every kiss tasted of you. But here at the beginning, you were to be kissed, to be touched, to come undone and maybe, almost, adored.

Here and now she kisses. Your head is against the wall but the room feels like it's spinning, she tastes of mint and the faint suggestion of a cigarette. You would worry what your own mouth tasted of if her tongue wasn't exploring every inch like she could find the Lord’s blessing in there. She breaks away and lets you draw a breath, nips at your bottom lip, now red and shiny. It's been a few days since she's been able to pay you any attention and you can feel it in her touches, an urgency and a hunger to forget herself in you. One of her hands makes its way from your head to your waist to your hip and she pulls the red cloth up,and gathers it until her hand can slip under the hem and cup your cunt through those ugly linen briefs. 

There’s probably some fucked up reason why she likes your cunt so much, it’ll be wrapped up in this warped idea of procreation and life that Serena has in that pretty little head of hers. But you’re not going to complain, not with the feelings she's wrenched of you because of how much she likes it. You thought you’d had pretty good cunnilingus from your husband and past long term boyfriends, it hadn’t all been messy fumbling, there had been time to teach them what you wanted and how to make you squirm and how to make you cum. Apparently though nothing can come close to bridging the gap of what seems to be the combination of pure enjoyment and desire that Serena has for eating you out. The beginning had been messy, you weren't sure if you were allowed to speak, you faked it once just because she’d been down there so long (you think she might have been able to tell) but she’d been persistent in her way, a slow progression of touches, ringing out the sounds you were trying to tamp down. The next time she was so close if she just-

“Up a bit, a-and keep that movement going.”

Serena obeyed and you saw white hot. 

Her lips had still been there as you came down, her tongue slowly mapping out your lower lips. She had hummed softly when she caught you watching her. “We’ll work on that.”

Now she had two fingers pressed against the length of your cunt through the linen briefs and her palm ground against your clit. Sometimes she’d get one out of you before you were both in her bedroom. You're pretty sure her preferred type is when she has two fingers inside you and her mouth wrapped around your clit but the first one often makes you more relaxed, it gives her more time between your legs later.

She picks up a rhythm on your clit and kisses her way up your neck. You should be annoyed by how quickly your head tilts back, your knees give way and Serena’s hand feels like the only thing keeping you upright.

God- you’re nearly there if she just-

She stops and you let out a grunt of complaint. You can feel her answering smile against your mouth as she kisses you in an approximation of an apology. “You’re too greedy,” she says as if it's you, June that pushes her head between your legs and not her who gravitates towards your cunt everytime a door closes and leaves you alone together. 

Serena pulls you towards her bedroom and pushes you back on the bed where Mr Waterford ritualistically raped you once a month and Mrs Waterford eats you out like she’s the five thousand and you’re five loaves of bread and fish. 

You thought she’d stop after you fell pregnant, that your womb would suddenly become holy and nothing should be disturbed between your legs until your child came. But Serena had surprised you, you wouldn't call her an unhappy woman before but now she was spilling over with delight. She laughs as she kisses you. Sometimes hallway encounters would just be a kiss on the cheek or a chaste press of lips and a grin. Your stomach would be peppered with kisses once she got under your skirt. Her ministrations had never been forceful but there was a layer of reverence now that came with a gentleness you hadn't seen from her, there were kisses at your wrists and at your knees, soft swirling patterns on your ribs and back as your breath slowed and came down from your multiple highs.

You think she misses the blood sometimes. You'd have thought that Serena wouldn't have been interested in earning her red wings, not when the blood was a sign that she’d failed, that they’d failed. But you came the hardest when she wouldn't let up, like she was working out her anger on your cunt. It might edge on painful and you'd often be raw for days after (days where she’d treat you so sweetly and patiently) but they were the closest times you’d get to blacking out from pleasure.

She pushes you back into the bed and rucks up your skirt again, putting the briefs out of the way and the cooler air washes against your skin. You passed the twelve week mark last week and Serena has never been more hungry. She starts slowly, you know this is as much for her as it is for you; she takes her time at the beginning, there's sweet kisses against your knees as she lifts them, fingers down your shins, setting your hair follicles alight with anticipation. You have to hand it to her, Serena Joy knows how to eat a woman out.

Sometimes in your encounters you want to reciprocate, and sometimes she’ll let you. If she's got three fingers inside you as you’ve come for the third or fifth or seventh time and she's kissing her way across your neck, you can roll and straddle her, twisting her wrist away and replacing it with your own. You don't touch her though, you’re buried in yourself, the fact that your knuckles are grinding down onto her clit through the thick cloth of her dress is just a side effect. It's a pretty view up there, her cheeks get red, her hair losing its bun; her blue dress looks like the sea with her chest heaving. You know you can get her to come if you start looking like you’re on the edge, your movements more desperate, your breath louder. She’ll arch and her face will scrunch and then that’ll be it. It's quick and it's quiet and you’re left satisfied at a glimpse of the rarest sight, Serena Joy, not in control. 

For now she makes her way up your legs and over your torso. She's kneeling on the edge of the bed between your legs, the bare skin of your ass pressed against her skirt with your knees round her hips. She mostly fucks you with her dress on, exceptions being temperature, time and blood. You sort of miss the week every month where she’d peel off her dress and hang it neatly on the back of the wardrobe before turning back to you.

You know you don't have very long, Mr Waterford has been in and out of the house constantly over the past few days, bringing guests and committee members with him. Serena has had a desperate look in her eye ever since she kissed you in the hallway and you nearly got caught by a stranger. Serena savours the moments though, she unzips your dress as you rise up and pulls it down your shoulders. She likes your tits as well, not as much as your cunt but your chest was the one place she could make marks without anyone spotting them. You’ve still got fading hickeys from her attentions two weeks ago. Time is precious today so she kisses up your chest licks a nipple into her mouth as she pressed two fingers into your cunt. At the beginning you were angry at how slick she made you so quickly but now you’ve never been more thankful.

The first one is fast, she adds a third finger and keeps up a pressure on your clit, that stretch sends you over the edge and you feel teeth graze your nipple as your back arches against the bed. She's all smiles as she looks up at you, they're edged with greed and desire, her chin resting between your breasts. Her sticky fingers appear above the rucked up material of your dress and she puts two salty fingers to your lips. You open your mouth and she presses inwards, your tongue finds the taste of yourself on them, you know how to make her blush and you suck in them, roll them over your tongue. You can feel her hips adjusting involuntarily under her dress.

She pulls her fingers away and you let them go with a pop that any pre- Gilead  porn video would be proud of. She shuffles down the bed now, kneeling on the floor between your legs. This is where she truly worships, you wonder if she thinks her Lord God watches her bend over your cunt like this which such devotion, a false idol in his eyes if ever there was one. 

You sigh as she runs a kiss up your lips, a small spark of anticipation when she finally makes contact with your clit, the flat of her tongue giving it one long stroke before she starts her proper ministrations. She has you scrabbling at the bedsheets in record time, you’re trying to push your hips closer to her but she’s leaving bruises on them keeping you still. She’s got a hand pressing down posessively on your stomach and her tongue  _ twists  _ and you’re seeing white again. Her mouth riding you through the waves of pleasure.

Finally your breathing cools and slows, she’s made her way up the bed, her chin and mouth are still wet and you can see the shine. You reach for her face and kiss her, taste yourself, you’re so familiar with it now. You take your time, long, languid strokes of your tongue against hers. This time is for you to get lost in her noises and gasps that you can wring out of her like this. She lets a little of herself go when she’s eaten her fill and your fingers are tugging her bun free. Its addictive to see her in this afterglow of her own making, she becomes so malleable you’re almost sure you could get her to agree to kill her husband in this state. 

There’s no time now but sometimes she’ll hold you, curl up behind you after all is calm, knee to backs of knee, chest to back, her mouth on your fifth vertebrae, the first one that's visible where your neck means your back. Her hand will wind its way round to your waist and settle in the space between your stomach and your cunt. It's not sexual, it's a closeness that you share. You know it's got one leg rooted in her fucked up ideals but the other leg is rooted in the basest of mothering instincts and you can almost appreciate that.

(She fell asleep once like that and you’d had to wake her as you heard someone’s footsteps up the stairs. She only holds you like that in your own bed now, when she creeps into your room in the early hours and sleeps until Rita wakes you both.)

There’s a soft knock at the door now and it’s Rita. She had caught you before, Serena under your skirt in a hallway. You’d yelled and trod on Serena’s hand as you both scrambled away from each other. Rita had immediately turned around back to the kitchen and you’d seen the gears turning in Serena’s head trying to work out how to discredit her Martha already, but Rita had returned with an ice-pack for Serena’s hand and fled the scene again. 

Serena sighs against your mouth and throws a thank you at Rita behind the door. You hear footsteps as she walks back down the stairs. You slide slowly down the bed, pulling your vest and dress up your chest again, standing to find where Serena dropped your briefs. As you step into them and pull them up you feel fingers draw the zipper of your dress back up and a soft kiss pressed to the baby hairs of your neck before she leaves you in her bedroom alone.

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted serena very enthusiastically eating june out. if you're here you've probably thought about it, its fine. i know its a '''bad''' ship morally etc etc but listen if fandom isnt for me writing over 2k of smut for this ship than what is it for. thank u to the 6 fics before me on this tag, you're doing sappho's work and i owe u my life thanks.
> 
> shout out to tiff, lou and tessa who all read the fic when i thrust it upon them and assured me it was good, also to tiff for catching all my dumb mistakes. i love you all very much and you're all responsible for this so i hope u take some pride in that.
> 
> if u like art i also drew them here, big old nsfw warning if u open this: http://southblot.tumblr.com/post/174057191657/uh-huh


End file.
